Lincoln’s POV
The change in Archie was instant, sharp, and totally uncalled for.
By eight o'clock the next morning, the warm, quiet moment from the night before seemed completely erased. I was sitting at the kitchen island sipping black coffee when Archie walked in. He didn't look like the tired father who had stared at me in the lamplight twelve hours ago. He was wearing a dark blue bespoke suit, his tie knotted so tight it looked painful, and his face was carved out of pure ice.
He didn't even look me in the eye. He just picked up a file from the counter, gave a short, curt nod in my general direction, and said, "Mr. Greyson. The boys need to be at school by eight-thirty sharp."
"Good morning to you too, Mr. Samuel," I said, raising an eyebrow over my coffee cup.
He didn't reply. He
